Star crossed lovers
by ffrackles
Summary: Peeta wakes up from a dream, and can't help thinking about his past, his present, and his future. Short one-shot. Peeta/Katniss. R&R :


Peeta opened his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself.

Just a dream.

Tilting his head to the right, his lips searched until they found Katniss' jaw where he placed a gentle kiss as his hand wrapped around her waist, resting easily on her stomach. Feeling her even breaths made him relax, but he never managed to fall back to sleep again. It was too close to morning, and he was well rested. He didn't need much sleep to be rested, and ready for a long day. So he figured he could take an hour to himself before Katniss would surely wake up, and he had to start with work. Start baking. It was natural for him; baking. Growing up a baker's son and all of that. He didn't have to, he knew that. Katniss didn't have to work either. They had enough money to live by. Because of the Games. Because of winning. But neither of them could walk around all day doing nothing. They had to do something; if not for them, but for the people of District 12. Their friends and families.

So Katniss hunted, and he baked. She would always be the huntress, and he would always be the boy with the bread. Even though man was a more correct term these days, after all these years. And he would always worry when she was out there, even though she was more than capable of taking care of herself.

Peeta didn't bother to put any clothes on. It's not like he wasn't wearing anything at all, and he figured that if anyone was awake and walked past their house – which he sincerely doubted – they wouldn't see something new. The world had seen so much more in his first round of the Games, hadn't it?

Shaking his head, Peeta shoved the thoughts of the Games away and walked down the stairs. Not bothering to turn any of the lights on, and found his way to the kitchen to pour himself some hot chocolate. He remembered a time where he had never even tasted it, and shook his head again. He hated himself for thinking of the Games. The memories he truly wanted to forget were the memories that haunted him. At night, at day, all the time. But the memories – the dreams – about the Games, and the War, those he could paint out. It helped. It was his way of dealing, of accepting. Baking helped too. Sure it brought up memories of his parents and his brothers, but those were good memories. He had accepted that they were gone. He had accepted that a lot of people were gone. Family, friends, neighbors. But he knew that he would never truly accept it if he ever lost Katniss.

He thought back of the Games again. Trying to keep her alive. About realizing that she had only played along, never truly cared about him the way he cared about her. But she kept them alive, and he couldn't stay mad for long. Then there was the Quarter Quells, again only really trying to keep her alive, not knowing that she never intended to walk out of there alive. As long as he was alive, she explained long after that. The War. How much she had helped him. How much more it only made him fall in love with her. How eventually she fell in love with him too.

He smiled weakly, going on to the next memories. Dealing with their families deaths. Their friends deaths. Finally winning the war, writing the book with Katniss and Haymitch, _finally_ marrying Katniss. And now, after fifteen years of asking, she had agreed to having a baby with him. He knew that she never wanted to have kids. Never wanted to marry someone. All because of the Games, and what they would surely do to her in the future. To her family. Her kids. Peeta couldn't imagine having a child in the Games either, but the Games were over. Now was only a time of telling the stories – some of the kids lived happily, unwitting about the Games. But the school would teach them eventually – history.

Peeta scoffed, wishing this part of the history would just be forgotten. But then again, he never wanted people to forget about the tributes. He wanted their stories to live, which is why the three wrote the book in the first place. To honor their memories. And not just them. Everyone who fought along side them.

But still, he dreaded the day he would have to tell their kids about the Games. About the War. About the way he and Katniss was involved. But still, none of them wanted their future kids to hear about it in school. It was better to hear it from them, right?

His thoughts went back to the dream that had woken him. Thought about how he didn't only dream about Katniss now. About loosing her. Those dreams still haunted him, after so many years, but he wasn't just scared of loosing her. He was scared of loosing their baby, too.

He chuckled softly to himself then, thinking about how wrong they had been. They thought it would take _months_ of trying. Maybe even longer. If they could have kids at all. But they didn't need months. Hell, they barely needed weeks. Barely a month and a half after deciding to have fun trying for a baby, the first suspicions came. The biggest one that she was late, of course. A few days later, they found out that she was carrying their first child. And despite all the fears, they were truly happy. Both of them. Katniss actually cried through her smiles when she told him; the girl who said she never wanted children. They both loved the baby growing inside of her equally as much.

Peeta shook his head in amusement, his fingers following the circular shape of the mug holding his hot chocolate. Which wasn't that hot anymore.

That's when he heard it. The scream he hadn't heard in years. Yes, his Katniss might still be just as plagued by nightmares as he was, but at least she had stopped screaming. He hadn't missed those screams.

But she had screamed now, and he knew it was bad. Therefore, he didn't notice how his mug somehow ended up on the floor with a loud crash as he moved from the table and hurried up the stairs, finding Katniss on their bed. She was sitting up, her eyes wide as she tried to relax by taking deep breaths. It wasn't working he noticed as he sat down on the bed before her and grabbed her face in his hands. Her gray eyes stared into his bright blue, and his thumbs caressed her face gently. He knew there was no reason to ask her about it – she wouldn't talk unless she wanted to. But he did anyway.

"Wanna talk about it?" he murmured when she had calmed down, but she quickly shook her head. His hands moved down her braided hair until they reached her hands, and he gave her a small smile.

"Some hot chocolate then?"

"With honey?" she returned his smile, her fingers tucking at the edge of his undershorts.

"With honey," he confirmed with a low chuckle as he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. He heard her sigh as he did this, only causing him to smile more.

She let him lead her down the stairs then, never letting go of his hand as he turned the lights on in every room they passed. As they reached the kitchen, Peeta noticed the mess on the floor, and Katniss did too.

"Peeta, you shouldn't..."

"Shouldn't do what?" he spoke before she could finish. "Comfort my wife when she feels bad?"

"Drop everything to get to me," she continued, as if she had never heard him speak. He rolled his eyes as he cleaned up his mess before she had the chance to.

"You'd do the same," he stated, knowing that she had. Several times. She couldn't argue with him, so she released her hair from the braid and sat down at the table while Peeta took out two new mugs and made the hot chocolate. With honey.

None of them spoke until Katniss had a mug in her hands, and Peeta sat in front of her.

"What were you doing awake anyway?" she wondered, taking a bite of the cupcake Peeta had given her. Her favorite, jam. He himself had one with chocolate. Katniss couldn't understand him. Drinking hot chocolate while eating something made of chocolate. To her, it was too much chocolate. To Peeta, it could never be too much chocolate.

"Mostly thinking," he answered her truthfully. He kept out the part about the nightmare. She didn't have to know that.

"Nightmare?" she understood anyway, and he gave her a small nod while smiling weakly. Letting her know that he was okay.

"You'll be showing soon," he changed the subject. "We should start telling people."

"I was thinking about that too," she answered him, a sad smile on her lips.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked, probably knowing the answer. She was thinking about Prim. Her father. He understood more than enough. Of course he wanted to see his father's face when he told him he was going to be a grandfather, but he never would. Imagining would have to be enough.

"Dad, Prim..." she confirmed. "Your family. Rue, Finnick, Cinna."

Her voice broke when she spoke Cinna's name, but she shook her head when Peeta reached his hand out. He held it out over the table anyway, and eventually she grabbed it, smiling softly when he squeezed it. She quickly wiped her one tear away, not wanting to show herself weak. But Peeta didn't mind. She had comforted him at times when he'd cried, and he wanted to comfort her. But Katniss crying did not happen often, and he'd had rare occasions during the years they'd been together.

"Everyone," she whispered and he nodded. They were thinking about the same people.

"Where do we start?" he asked instead, trying to get her on better thoughts. When she smiled, he knew he had succeeded.

"Haymitch?" she asked, but they both shook their heads. They wanted him to know, but not to be the first person. "My mother then?"

"District 4 it is," Peeta nodded to himself, knowing they would probably leave tomorrow. If not even today. He knew that Katniss would want to see her mother. "Who else should we tell?"

"Haymitch, Greasy Sea, Annie, Effie... Effie will probably tell Ceaser, who in turn will find a way to tell the world in his own special way," she looked down into her hot chocolate as she spoke, and Peeta didn't have to ask why those people were on the list. She seemed to be done, and she stared at him with wide eyes as he came with a suggestion.

"No. Why would I tell Gale?"

Peeta let out a sigh as his wife got up from her seat, and he followed her up the stairs as they argued about the subject.

"He's a part..."

"Don't say that he's a part of my life, because he's not anymore."

"He used to be," Peeta said as he reached the top of the stairs, following her into their bedroom.

"Not since Prim died," she argued and Peeta let out another sigh. She wouldn't budge on this, would she?

"He used to be your best friend."

"Yeah, he _used_ to be," she agreed as she pulled on a pair of pants, pulling her shirt over her head to put on another. "Why do you want him to know anyway? I thought you hated him."

"I don't _hate_ him," Peeta disagreed. But he didn't exactly like him either. "Look. He had his mother tell you that he got married, and that he had a baby. A part of him clearly still cares about what you think."

"Fine," Katniss snapped. "If it means that much to you, I'll tell Hazelle, and she'll tell him that _you and I _are having a baby."

She stared at Peeta for a long time, and he didn't say anything. All that was heard were her breaths. Then, out of nowhere, she collapsed on the floor and started to cry. She tried to hide her face underneath her hair, but it didn't fool Peeta. He could hear her sniffles, and he knew that this wasn't about Gale. Or him, or about Prim. About how the world would react to the star crossed lovers having a baby. He knew it was about the dream. He had to know what it was.

Lowering himself into a crouch in front of her, he took her right hand.

"Katniss," he murmured, his free hand gently wiping her hair from her face so that he could see it clearly. His thumb gently caressed her jaw when he spoke. "What was the dream about?"

She looked up into his eyes then, and she swallowed her tears back. For a moment he was sure that she wouldn't tell him.

"I never took her place," she whispered, and Peeta knew instantly that she was talking about Prim. "There was never any star crossed lovers, never a chance of either you or Prim surviving. Never a rebellion, never a War, the Games... They kept going, year _after_ year _after_ year. I woke up when I saw our son being killed by this giant-"

He stopped her then, not wanting to hear about it anymore.

"The dream isn't possible, you know that right?" he asked, but before she could answer, Peeta continued. "You _did_ take her place. You and I, we _are_ the star crossed lovers from District 12, there was a rebellion – and a war -, and our daughter will never be in the Games because _there are no Games._"

When Katniss touched the steel that had replaced Peeta's lower leg with gentle fingers, he knew that she wasn't thinking about the dream anymore.

"I could have done more," she whispered, and he barely heard her.

"You did everything you could," he smiled but she shook her head.

"I could have done more," she repeated and Peeta placed a finger under her chin to make her look at him.

"You _saved_ me. Who cares about a stupid leg anyway?"

"I care," she argued back and he sighed.

"You know what I mean," he told her and she didn't say anything for a while.

"And you know I don't only mean your leg," she whispered, her voice breaking. She was obviously thinking about everyone who had died in the arena and in the war. In the rebellion_ they_ had been a part of starting.

"_We_," he said as he took a seat next to her, "did everything we possibly could. And you did a lot more."

None of them spoke for a long time where they sat. He had his arm around her shoulders, her head leaning against his shoulder. Her hand was placed on his leg, his chin leaning against the top of her head.

"What do you mean, our _daughter_?"

"Do you honestly think we're having a boy?" he asked, raising his eyebrow even though she couldn't see it. They hadn't talked about it yet, but Peeta knew that he didn't care. Sure, he wanted a little girl that looked just like her mother. Who could sing just like her mother. But if they had a son, he would be equally as happy.

"Yeah," she sounded sure. "A boy with your smile."

"I think we're having a girl – a girl just as beautiful as her mother. Probably as stubborn too."

"With both of us being stubborn, I am sure that our son will be too," she said and he chuckled.

"There's a fifty-fifty chance of any one of us winning," he told her and she looked up at him.

"And that will be me," she smiled. The thoughts about the dream, about Prim, about Cinna, Rue, Finnick, _everyone_ was gone at the moment. All she thought about right now was Peeta and their child.

"We'll see," he chuckled again, leaning down to press a kiss on her lips.

"I love you," she whispered against his lips, and he could feel her warm breath against his skin. He wanted more, and pressed his lips against hers again. Harder this time.

"I love you too, sweetheart."

"I used to hate that nickname," she chuckled softly and he laughed at the memory.

"I remember," he grinned, thinking about how she still hated it when it came from Haymitch's mouth. But the old drunk meant well, both Katniss and Peeta knew that. She was still annoyed though. When Peeta had asked her about it, she had said that she only wanted him to call her that. But he could remember a time when she didn't want anyone calling her that. She must have remembered it too, because when she spoke, her voice was almost a little sad.

"I don't deserve you."

He could almost hear the words she left out. _Not after everything I did to you._

He cradled her cheek with his free hand and looked into her eyes.

"You don't think that the most beautiful girl from the Seam deserves the baker's son?" he asked, shaking his head in amusement. He even let out a small chuckle before he continued. "You're Katniss, the girl on fire. I'm just a boy who happens to bake bread. So you've got that all wrong."

"You're my own personal bread delivery guy," she smiled and he laughed with her. He knew what she meant.

"Then maybe we're just right for each other," he murmured, the smile still on his face. "We are the star crossed lovers after all, aren't we?"

"That we are," she whispered, and her smiled grew wider when he leaned down to capture her lips with his, his hand resting on her stomach.


End file.
